A Little Sunshine....

Decisions, decisions.

I've come to a final decision.

I'm supposed to take Siera next week to my friend's place for summer riding. Siera needs to stay home until we figure out her lameness issue. Is it an abscess occurring, arthritis, or something else? 

I cannot in good faith take a mule that has issues to a friend's place.

Kristi would stress out  worrying that it could be her fault somehow. 

[Even though the mule would be on pasture]. 

She is a worrier. Kristi cares for her boarded horses as if they are her own children.

I know Siera's vitals are all perfectly normal. Siera is a wonderful animal with a good mind. However, I need to figure out what is causing her troubles and see if she is to be permanently retired or what.

So tonight I took Sunshine out and saddled her up to go get the mail on the ridge. My trail cam in the driveway caught us leaving.

Naughty me, I was in shorts and tennis shoes with no helmet but it was a last second decision and we just mosied up to the ridge, took a look around and grabbed the mail on the way back.

Sunshine acted as if we'd never stopped riding for the past two years. Good girl.

When she was first in 'training' to be a trail mule, I rode her nearly every single day for doing something. Checking fences, looking for mushrooms, taking the Jack Russell out for a jaunt. Giving the grand kids a ride on her -- leading them of course.

We trailered her all over. Sometimes Rich would ride her and sometimes I'd ride her. 

From 4 years old to nearly 20, she was ridden often. I'd trade between her and Siera.

When Rich got sick the mules became pasture pets. Still, kids would sometimes come and take rides in the yard.

Tonight we just went. It was short, but it was sweet.

I felt more relaxed with Sunshine than I was with Siera. 

Maybe it is because Sunshine was born in my lap so many years ago.

Maybe it is because I can walk out into the pasture with a lead rope and halter and sit down. 

Sunshine walks up to me and puts her head down to mine as if to say. "Hi, long time no see!" Her half brother Badger used to do the same thing.

Sunshine may be a better choice anyway. Kristi needs some confidence building while trail riding and I have a little red mule that has been there, done that and is mostly unflappable. 

I feel better about this decision. 

I can take time to figure out what it happening with Siera and take a good little red mule to her house.

 If we get a handle on Siera's issues, I can always swap out mules.

But tonight brought some deep emotions to the surface.

I recalled sitting in the pasture with Sunshine's mother during Sunshine's birth. I recalled all the miles I put on with Cheyanne her mom and then all the years with Sunshine. 

How I thought at first she'd be too short, she wasn't stunning enough, she wasn't a blazing drop dead beauty like her mom. But she was steady. And to her credit, Sunshine still thinks I'm her mom. She will follow me to the ends of the earth.

I've posted this photo before on my blog. For those who didn't know, this is how Sunshine came into the world nearly 29 years ago.

I think it is appropriate to recall that this little red mule is on this earth because of the Muleman I met on a Wagon Train.

I've been so busy with everything the past few years that I've forgotten the incredible relationship I have with this little red mule.

You 

are 

my 

Sunshine....

The Diagnosis

A month ago we went to the VA hospital in Madison for a Neuro-psychology exam. This is a brain function test of executive functions, thinking, making decisions, planning, understanding, language, perception, and ...well, you get the idea.

It was a two hour test that we did on the 14th of last month. I should say, a two hour test that Rich did last month.
I learned in Physical Therapy-Speech last year that issues a person has pre stroke generally become worse post stroke or as the PT gal said, the issues would be greater in general.

We sat down in the room and I mentally thought I was prepared for hearing the two doctors conclusions.
I wasn't.

Cognitive Disorder, specifically Vascular Dementia -- the doctors were quick to say that Dementia means Brain Changes-- the stigma of hearing "You have Dementia" is about as horrid as hearing the word "Cancer".  Perhaps even much worse. Dementia is like saying: You are going to lose your mind.

We have gone down the Cancer Road already so I didn't think anything would actually shock me.

Rich has not just had one stroke. Last year's stroke was just a big bang compared to all the others he has had over the years. In other words, he has had a lot of insidious brain damage over the years.

I had thought perhaps that Rich had Vascular Dementia, but until the words were clearly spoken to me in that room, there was a chance that it wouldn't be that.

I looked over at my husband and wondered how he was taking the news. Hard to tell as he was just listening and watching. The doctors were very good to look us both directly in the eye.

Then they asked a few direct questions. "Val, you are not working correct?" I smiled and said that was correct, I had to quit last year to stay home and take care of Rich.
"We have a treatment plan and some things we believe will be helpful but it is a big commitment."

The question behind the question. 'Will you go running from this room screaming your head off and ditch your husband? Or are you willing to put in time and extreme effort for his therapy and care?'

I replied to them that I was there for the long haul. After all, I'd driven to the UW 5 days a week for over 6 weeks to take Rich to radiation treatments and tried to work on the weekends.

They went over the details of getting appointments with PT, OT, and seeing a Medical Psychologist too. I inquired if that would be that same as the gent we saw during cancer treatments. He was quite helpful. They thought they'd try to schedule us back with him since we had a history already of seeing him during the cancer treatments.

Social workers, OT coming to the house for inspection, testing Rich for safety, OT doing driving tests with Rich...arranging Respite Care.

Discussions of driving, not driving.

And then the bombshell.

"Do you have your POA set up?" the one doctor asks of us.
"Yes," I answer, "we did that quite a while ago."
"Financial and Medical?"
I nodded.
Rich nodded.

They turned and looked at Rich. "We may ask your wife to be your Medical Agent as we are not sure you can make your own health decisions. We will consider Financial POA also."

I could see that Rich was a bit shocked. So I piped up.
"Honey, if they do that, nothing really changes. Right now we are doing all of this together anyway. We sit and do the bills together, we go to appointments together right?"
He nodded. "I could do the checkbook," he said, "but my tremors are so bad. I can't write so Val does it."

There it was, the same thing we went through with his mother. Losing your independence officially. It didn't matter that I've already been doing most of what a Guardian or an Agent for Health/Finances would be doing already. But the 'threat' of having that taken away was downright frightening for him.

The discussion went on to talk about how Speech Therapy would help, meeting with the Med/Psych doctor would help, PT, OT, Social Workers, setting things up.

The goal was to maintain Rich on a plateau provided there wasn't another brain incident or other health incidents.

In one year they would test him again to see if he was able to maintain or...
Well.
Let's just say it out loud. This sort of brain damage doesn't reverse itself.

I'm not asking for sympathy or writing this for shock value.
I may continue writing about this on my other blog called The Long Road.
The Long Road is where I addressed our travels through Cancer.

I hope that I am prepared to travel down this new fork in the road.

Tough weekend

Morris has had some odd behaviors these past few weeks. He has walked into the door before I opened it. He seems lost if I get out of his view and then can't always seem to find me. He seems as though he is quite lost some days. However most of the time if I got out a leash he seemed bright and attentive.
This past week we had record heat and humidity. Morris and I chose to opt out of walking to the bus stop.
We've dealt with all of his funny little mishaps of missing a stair, or growling at plants that he thought shouldn't be there...with a bit of humor. After all. He is aging.

Saturday was one of those normal days except it was supposed to be unbearably hot and humid in our neck of the woods.

I scurried around in the morning before things go too hot and picked cherry tomatoes for our summer salad I planned on making later.

I found a clean one and munched on it while in the garden. They were warm and delicious.
Morris the ever curious old dog came up and tried to eat one. I was sure he wouldn't like it so I bit a small one in pieces and let him smell in on my fingers. He snatched it and gobbled it down.

He then grabbed another split one from the ground and ate it. I shooed him out of the garden and walked back to the house. I wondered if tomatoes bothered dogs.

Well I went inside the house and commenced to making our pasta salad for eating later.

My brother and his son are coming to visit on Tuesday so my mind was on salads, meals, schedules, ...OT on Monday, the VA on Tuesday, ...changing the sheets from my last round of visitors, tidying up the porch, ...
Oh.
I peered at the yard and told Rich that it was too hot to mow. Just leave the yard alone. It didn't need to be picture perfect for my brother.
I think the last time my brother came here, it was 2002. Yes. It was. My brother brought my father for one of the last WI visits.
My dog Xena had just died from either eating coco bean mulch or poison. We never did figure out if she got into a rat that was poisoned or ate the mulch.
Rich had been admitted to the hospital and I'd picked him up just before their arrival.

Around 3pm Morris fell off the couch. I saw it and then saw the stress in his eyes and in his body language. Something was horribly wrong. His back was hunched, his eyes were dull, and he walked with a wobble.

He tried to walk to the door and I let him out. He wobbled off the porch and squatted...squirting me with diarrhea. Oh sh-t. Oh sh-t. No. No!
He finished and wobbled back towards the door. I cleaned up the porch with a little bucket of water and washed my bare feet.

Hmm.
Inside Morris shadowed me as well as he could, he lifted one paw onto my pant leg and stared dull eyed at me while he shuddered.
I picked him up and let him snuggle in my lap.

I started to research his 'symptoms' and wasn't find too much in results. Not until much later did I happen on a site that sort of sounded like what Morris was going through. However this wasn't until after midnight.

Years ago, I bought a veterinarian's stethoscope and learned how to use it. It helped when Badger was so sick and when anything happens to an animal on the farm and the vet comes, I can save them some time with giving them vitals.

Morris's vitals were as follows. Heart rate: Rapid but strong. Within the high normal for him.
Respiration was in the high range when he seemed to have a cramp, but otherwise withing normal range.
Lungs clear. Rectal temperature within the his normal range.

It seemed he had a gastric upset of sorts. He confirmed this by throwing up. I could see chunks of the small tomato in it and then wiped it up. Tomatoes didn't seem to be a huge issue for dogs unless they ate green ones or others in large volumes. He had done neither of those.

Rich was concerned too. Until we went to bed Rich took turns taking Morris out to the bathroom. When it got dark, I put his pet-lite [a small medallion that lights up with an LED light] so I could watch him closer. I followed him around as he peed and did his business.

At 4am, after one of our outtings, Morris drank water. He drank and drank and drank. I made him some chicken broth [thank you upstairs neighbor] with white rice and sprinkled some small pieces of chicken breast on it. Morris smelled it and then picked out the small pieces of chicken.

By 10 am, he had settled in for a long nap on the couch. He slept and slept.

I'd called a few vet offices and being a Sunday I got an answering machine. "Hello, you have reached - name of office - our hours of operation are...."

One office was open and would take emergencies. To walk in the door it would cost $150 and they were 90 minutes away.
Morris was showing improvement so we decided to wait and let him rest.

He did exactly that for the rest of the day. He would get up and walk quietly to the door and stare at you with those soulful eyes.
I fed him the rest of the chicken breast which he skillfully picked out of the rice and took him out.
Afterwards he climbed up on the couch and laid down.

I figured to try and sleep in bed.
About 4am I heard the sound of Morris walking into the bedroom. I cleared my bleary eyes and grabbed my glasses and a flashlight.
I followed Morris around the yard as he seemed to try very hard to defecate. He strained and strained.
I gave him the last of the small bits of the chicken I had and he seemed to want more. He ate some left over cooked burger crumbles and stared at me when I didn't give him any more. I figured until we were able to see our veterinarian, I would err on the side of caution.

After a few more trips outside with nothing but effort, he ambled in slowly and drank some more water. He fell asleep on the floor next to the couch. This morning he won't jump onto the couch.

I have a 12:45 Occupational Therapy appointment and am trying to figure out how to take him to town. Today will be another hot and humid day. No way to leave him in a crate while I do therapy. I'll check with the vet's office and see if we can't work something out.

I feel like I jinxed myself by going through Morris's bucket list. Or perhaps I was neglectful in some way by allowing him to taste the tiny cherry tomato. All I know is that I am sick at heart.
I am not ashamed to admit that I spent most of Saturday night with tears in my eyes.

I rarely cry about anything. I don't cry at funerals. I don't get over emotional when something awful happens. And I didn't get teary eyed during any of Rich's medical emergencies. I've always been known for my steely resolve.
Except when it come to animals. I have no way of keeping my emotions in check.

Updates later.